


Ribbon Whispers

by palmtreelights



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers R.P.M.
Genre: Barbecue, Cuties, Gen, Light-Hearted, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4476935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmtreelights/pseuds/palmtreelights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team gets invited to a barbecue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ribbon Whispers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gingayellow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingayellow/gifts).



> I won't lie, I had the hardest time not drenching this in darkness and angst, but it's better for that. They deserve to be happy.

* * *

 

Everyone seems to have something to do or somewhere to be in those first few weeks after the defeat of the AI that almost destroyed the world, but after that, things settle into a rhythm, and with everyone in Corinth City working on one thing or the other, the Rangers begin to have the luxury of being bored.

Including Scott’s father.

“A barbecue,” says Scott, repeating what his father has just told him, albeit out of order and in fragments because it’s so unlike the man Mason Truman has been for the past four or five years. “You want to have a barbecue.”

“You say that as if I’ve never had one before,” his father tells him. A corner of his mouth lifts in a small, smug grin.

This has got to be a joke. “Dad, the world almost ended.” Because that explains everything, right?

“And it didn’t,” Mason Truman insists. “Because of you and the others. Wouldn’t you say, then, that you all deserve this?”

Scott lifts a hand to his face and sighs. “I guess, though I wouldn’t—”

“And it’s not as if this kind of celebration is unheard of, right?”

“Dad—” Okay, he’s serious, but it’s still a joke. A good one, the more Scott thinks of it, because his father is right. The others deserve an afternoon to unwind, one spent out of the garage and all its memories of the hardest months of their lives. And even though this seems so out of place—even jovial, from a man like Mason Truman—it might be just what everyone needs.

Meeting his father’s gaze, Scott nods. “I’ll let everyone know.”

Mason Truman’s smile widens, calm and mischievous all at once.

He looks like the father he’d been when Scott had been a kid, and even though the expression seems strange on him now, Scott finds himself looking forward to this.

 

* * *

 

In a way, it’s a Memorial Day barbecue, though only by virtue of the fact that it’s so close to the holiday that, in a pre-Venjix world, the barbecue would be labeled as such. But Dr. K and Summer are the only ones who remember the date of the holiday, and since it’s not on Memorial Day proper, they aren’t keen on putting the two together.

“An end-of-spring thing, maybe?” suggests Summer, who looks to Dr. K for confirmation.

“It could more accurately be called a celebration of the beginning of meteorological summer,” answers Dr. K.

Scott rolls his eyes, smiling a little.

“I agree,” says Summer. “Sorry, Scott. You were saying?”

“So you’ll come, right?” he asks the group, who have assembled in the garage’s kitchen.

“I already made plans with my parents,” Summer tells him, wincing slightly in apology.

“That’s our excuse, too,” Dillon adds, gesturing at Tenaya with his head.

“ _Excuse_?” asks Tenaya, arching her eyebrows at her brother. “Dillon, come on. Be nice. It’s our _reason_.”

“Excuse,” Dillon repeats, smirking a little.

Tenaya gives Scott a grin identical to Dillon’s, shrugging. “Sorry.”

“I’ve got work to do with my dad,” Flynn tells Scott. “Father-son project.”

Scott sighs and looks at Ziggy.

“We’re going to go meet some potential students for our school,” Ziggy says, indicating both himself and Dr. K with his hand.

“Somewhat reluctantly,” Dr. K adds. “I’m developing the proposal, which will likely take a long time to be approved regardless of when I submit it—”

“So you know that going to meet the kids will be a good use of your time,” says Ziggy, grinning.

“—but part of the proposal involves convincing the powers-that-be of the need for and benefits of a school such as ours,” Dr. K continues, shooting Ziggy a glare. Shaking her head, she turns to Scott again. “And I don’t enjoy being out in the sun for longer than necessary. I’m afraid I’d decline regardless of this prior engagement.”

“Okay,” says Scott, nodding, breathing deeply, wondering just how much of a disaster this barbecue will be if it’s just him and his father. Maybe, if worse comes to worst, can talk Vasquez into coming.

But he still has hope in the form of Gem and Gemma, who have been waiting for their turn to answer ever since he’d asked the question.

“What about you?” he asks them, fully prepared for exuberance, laughter, and sound effects.

“That sounds pretty cool,” says Gem. “Especially the fire part.”

“Yeah,” adds Gemma, grinning. “We’re in!”

“Great,” says Scott. “But neither of you touches the fire, got it?”

Gemma and Gem look at each other, give identical pouts, and say in unison, “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

As agreed, they do not touch the fire.

They do, however, try to get Colonel Truman to let them cook over said fire.

“No,” Colonel Truman says for the fifth time. From across the yard, Scott sees his fingers shift over the tongs he’s using to flip the meats he’s grilling.

“We’ll be careful,” Gemma insists.

“You trusted us to go out and fight in the wasteland, right?” adds Gem.

“Barely,” says Colonel Truman. He looks up and shoots both of them a glare, at which they skulk away.

They head for the table with the breads and the condiments, where they pick up a bottle each and scan the ingredients list.

Laughing under his breath, Scott goes over to join them.

“Good move, walking away from him,” he tells them as he twists the cap on the mustard. “That’s the smartest thing to do when he’s down to one-word answers.”

Gemma glances over her shoulder at Colonel Truman and laughs. “He’s funny when he’s like that. Not really mad, but acting like he is.”

“Kind of like Dr. K,” Gem remarks.

Never in his life would that have occurred to Scott on his own. As the twins share a glance and a giggle, he looks over at his father and tries to see if he can spot the resemblance. Prickly, sort of solitary, no-nonsense—okay, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Though if it ever came down to it, Scott would rather risk angering his father than Dr. K.

“Barbecue sauce,” Gemma reads, picking up a glass bottle. “Shouldn’t he be using this while he’s cooking?”

“He’ll probably use it on the next batch,” Scott tells her.

Meeting his gaze, Gemma beams. “I’ll go help him! He’s _got_ to let me help if I have the barbecue sauce.” With that, she bounds to Colonel Truman and the grill, bottle in hand.

Scott’s shoulders shake in a quiet laugh, and he shakes his head. “Sorry she beat you to it, Gem.”

Gem shrugs. “So, what’s Memorial Day?”

“A day where you honor people who’ve died in war,” answers Scott.

“And you do that by having barbecue parties?”

Scott nods. “And parades, and services… but yeah, mostly barbecues.” He thinks about that for a second, how so many holidays revolve around food in one way or another. Then he starts to think about all the people who died in this war, and before it, and he has to twist open a bottle of ketchup to get his mind off it, the _pop_ of the seal breaking bringing him back to the backyard of his father’s house. They’ve won, and the world will start to rebuild. That’s all they can do now.

“That’s neat,” remarks Gem. “It could be such a sad day, but it’s like you’re celebrating the good things instead, right? The memories of those people, more than anything else?”

“Yeah,” Scott answers. “That’s… yeah, actually.” That’s a much nicer way of thinking of it. “There’s a ton of history to it.”

“Save that for another day,” says Gem. “Today is the first day of meteorological summer, and _set food on fire_ day.”

Right on cue, the fire in the grill leaps, and Gemma laughs as Colonel Truman moves a burger patty from the receding burst of flame.

“That was _awesome_ ,” says Gem. “The others are missing out! It won’t be as cool hearing about it.” He meets Scott’s gaze. “We should do this again! On a day everyone can make it!”

“Sure,” Scott agrees, smiling. “It’s summer, and the world’s not ending anymore.”

“We can celebrate Rainbow Ribbon Day!”

Scott frowns for a moment. “Do I want to know what that is?”

Gem nods. “Yeah! It’s really cool! See, one day, Gemma and I—”

“See,” a familiar voice cuts in, carrying from the side of the house, “I _told_ you we’d make the party!”

Dr. K appears, rounding the corner of the house, stepping out of the way of the narrow space between the wall and the fence for Ziggy to walk into the yard.

“Anyone could have made that estimate,” she tells him. “It’s barely noon, and you’d told me we’d be at the orphanage all day.”

“No, I didn’t,” Ziggy corrects her. “I said I _thought_ we _might_ be there all day.”

“You made it!” says Gemma, as Dr. K rolls her eyes.

His explanation forgotten, Gem nudges Scott in the side, grinning. “Maybe we won’t have to have another one after all!”

Scott snickers, shaking his head, holding Gem’s gaze for a second before waving at Ziggy and Dr. K. “Glad you could make it. There’s shade over here, Doc, and you’ll be closer to the food.”

Colonel Truman glances up at them as he sets the cooked meats on a plate that Gemma is holding steady with one hand, even as she lifts her other one in a fist high in the air, punctuating her delighted cheer.

“There are cookies in that pan,” he says.

Dr. K’s eyebrows shoot upwards, and she smiles a little.

“See?” Ziggy tells her. “Worth it.”

She rolls her eyes as she crosses the yard to where Scott is standing.

Gem puts a hand on Scott’s shoulder and leans in close, whispering, “I’ll tell you about Rainbow Ribbon Day later!” Then, before Scott has a chance to ask, he bounds over to Dr. K and pulls her into a hug, backing up as far as possible into the shade cast by a neighbor’s tree, laughing with her the entire way.

“Hey,” says Ziggy, who grabs a cookie from the pan on the table and comes to stand next to Scott. “This was really cool of your dad to do. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

“Gem already has an idea for when,” Scott says, glancing over at Gem and Dr. K, who have quieted and begun chatting.

“Yeah? Wait—it won’t involve explosives, will it?”

“Actually, I don’t know.” Shrugging, he looks at Ziggy again. “It seems harmless.”

“Well, be sure to get all the deets before you commit,” Ziggy says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, someone forgot to grab a cookie. How does she not have cavities?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, simply shakes his head and goes over to Dr. K and Gem.

Scott smiles and watches them for a few seconds, then looks over at the grill, where his father and Gemma seem to have fallen into a rhythm for getting the meats cooked and seasoned. He can’t even begin to imagine what this Rainbow Ribbon Day is about, but he wants to know more badly than he’ll admit out loud, especially if it’ll bring them all together like this. For now, though, this will do.


End file.
